


Reverie

by vinegardog



Category: Farscape
Genre: Fanfic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegardog/pseuds/vinegardog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tribute to D'Argo.  Angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverie

No spoilers unless you have not watched PK Wars yet. Set during PK Wars.

The characters as we all know are not mine and in this case and only in this case I am glad of it!

Word count: 1874

Reverie (PG13, for sadness)

Sunshine cascading through an open window caresses his face while soft silken hair tickles his chin.

His eyes open and after a brief moment of disorientation, D’Argo sighs, contentedly taking in the beautiful early morning blue skies, the melodious dawn chorus of the local birds…the warmth of the pale, beautiful body snuggled against his own under the cool linen sheets.

This planet had been the right choice – perfectly balmy temperatures to suit his Luxan origins, wide open spaces and fertile land to till and farm, rich soil yielding every year plentiful crops.

After 8 cycles of captivity in a Peacekeeper cell in the sole company of despair and excruciating longing for his dead wife and lost child followed by four more cycles of frantic escape first from Crais and then from Scorpius and the Scarrans, his luck had changed.

Those last frantic four cycles had brought him here, today, to this moment with Chiana in his arms, a longed for settled life in a peaceful farming community - four cycles of adventures, some exhilarating, some enlightening, some downright horrifying – four cycles he would never want to erase from his life in spite of the lows and the sorrows and the losses of dear friends.

His eyes are strangely watery and sore maybe from the sun rays getting stronger as the early day blooms into its full glory, maybe because of something else.. he doesn’t know and he does not want to linger on it, so he just closes them and smiles to himself thinking back to the day his captive life ended and his present one began.

He would never forget that day - the day he had met the people who would become so important to him, who would play a pivotal role in his becoming who he is today – John, Aeryn, Chiana, even obnoxious Rygel and of course Zhaan – how he misses Zhaan - he often thinks of her – her clear blue eyes, her soft and gently teasing smile, her inner strength and, when needed, steely single mindedness. Today, now, more than ever Zhaan is on his mind.

His first cycle on the run had not been easy, his strange fellow fugitives and their ways were alien to him. With time however he had learnt how to accept their quirks and differences… after all, like him, they all had been going through a process of adjustment, of coping with loss and fear and in the end this was what had brought them to share at first a tenuous and then a more pronounced camaraderie.

The human’s openness and naiveté had been irritating, even infuriating, but ultimately irresistible – John had become his best friend and the brother he had never had. D’Argo chuckles to himself thinking of all the times John surprised him in those early days with his willingness to talk rather than fight, to connect rather than reject – a trained warrior he was not, but his ways more often than not got them out of perilous situations and D’Argo would always give respect where respect was due. If nothing else you had to admire the human’s stubbornness, his will to persevere, his unwavering hope. As Scorpius could attest the worst torture could not tame John’s resilience, his belief in a better future or his hope to one day lead a life free of the horrors thrust upon him by fate and bad luck. Aeryn’s capitulation to his love, a monumental testament to his single mindedness and perseverance.

A sudden sharp pain in his stomach jolts him for a moment away from his thoughts, Chiana must have been lying across his chest and abdomen for a lot longer than he thought…he can hardly feel his legs anymore. He wants to stretch but he does not want to wake her…surely, for her sake, he can put up just a little longer with this small discomfort!

What had he been thinking about a microt ago..ah…yes, Aeryn.

Aeryn…his respect for her is boundless – little did he know that one day he would think so fondly of an ex-Peacekeeper. She is a fellow warrior, a loyal friend, somebody you can rely on no matter what. Unlike Crichton she does not talk much but one look, one raised eyebrow is all you need from her – it’s enough to let you know how she feels…. and the rare times she smiles – those smiles stay with you and make you hunger for more. Out of them all, she has gone through maybe the worst times in the last few cycles and yet she is unbeaten, stronger now for it. She deserves to have better days ahead…maybe those days will be here soon, maybe Aeryn and Crichton will finally find a place where without fear they can bicker often and often passionately make up, a place where they can raise their new born son in peace. Yes, he really wishes that for them, they have earned it.

True friends are hard to come by so he considers himself a lucky man, how could he not? He takes a long breath inhaling the scent of the beautiful woman lying in his arms…the Nebari waif who stole his heart, broke it and stole it back again. He truly did not think that she would take so well to settling down here with him in this peaceful, quite hamlet - not her, not the rebellious wild child whose main aim in life had been to be free, untamed and unhindered by conventional bonds and mores. And yet here she is soft and warm in his arms, her harrowing betrayal well behind them – he has finally understood and accepted that she was scared and like a trapped animal she struck out - his heart her target, her means his son….that was a long time ago, what matters now is that she is here with him, a choice made in the wake of experiences that have seen them both grow and appreciate each other’s gifts. Indeed he is a lucky man.

The pain in his stomach increases – don’t think about it, will it away – think of something else, something good. He clutches Chiana tighter, his hand on her back sleek with moisture…she must be sweating in her sleep under the increasing heat of the day….another few microts and he will wake her, they will then shower together, share a meal and enjoy the day, yes, that is what they will do…just a few more moments.

He remembers one time not too long ago, on Moya, walking on to Command at a time when most of the others were asleep and finding Sikozu standing there, an arch look on her averted face – she had barely acknowledged him at first, quite normal for this strange, proud, fiercely intelligent creature who, he was sure, thought him barely evolved enough to even address… and then she had surprised him. She had turned her head and after staring at him for a microt, clearly in two minds whether to show an interest or curiosity that could be mistaken for weakness, she had asked him abruptly “Succintly, Luxan, what have been the highlights of your life aboard this Leviathan?” A strange and unexpected request that had left him dumb for quite a long time…how could he possibly answer her, succinctly at that, in a way that could adequately explain the last four cycles.

How to portray to her the feeling of exhilaration he had felt when floating in space with John above Scorpius’s Gammak Base moon destroyed and aflame- he had almost died that time but even as he was drifting off into unconsciousness, in those last few microts of awareness he had been almost sure that both John and Aeryn would come through for him as in the end they had.

How to describe to Sikozu the amazing experience with Nilaam , the joy and pride he had felt at being asked to help an Orican in the Ritual of Passing… not to mention the amazing sex which had preceded it! A smile at the memory creases his lips.. a smile which only dissolves into another grimace of pain.

Jothee – could the Kalish ever understand his relief at the news brought by Stark to Moya that his long lost son was alive, his dismay at learning he had been living as a slave for the last number of cycles, his determination at doing anything in his power to free him even to the detriment of his best friend’s freedom, maybe life. The joy of seeing Jothee emerge from the pod, short lived when realisation came that John may be lost to them forever… and guilt prevailed.

Could she possibly understand the horror and anguish of powerlessly listening to a crazed John causing the death of the love of his life, the desolation at Aeryn’s burial and the immense relief at the amazing turn of events that reunited a re-born to sanity Crichton and a revived Aeryn shortly followed again by the deepest of sorrows at the loss of the self-sacrificing Zhaan.

His love for Chiana..had Sikozu ever been in love? Could her sinister, unfathomable bond to Scorpius be called that? Maybe it could but it certainly seemed impossible to compare it to his feelings for the beautiful woman in his arms..feelings he thought he would never have again for anybody else after Lola’an’s death.

Could he even attempt an explanation as to how, after his long, harsh exile and his unbearable desire to return to his home world, things had gradually changed, the desire had cooled.. how he had found a new home on Moya and a new family in his crew mates – how he had felt that it was his duty now to keep them together and as safe as possible through the horrors of the brewing war between the Peacekeepers and the Scarrans…

….so he hadn’t explained it. He had just looked at the Kalish and hesitantly had said “I can’t really answer that, I don’t know how to answer that” lowering, if possible, her already low opinion of his mental faculties!

The pain is increasing and it can no longer be ignored…the thudding of heavy boots pounding the ground and the harsh calls in the Scarran idiom finally wrench him back from his semi- conscious reverie.

His eyes teary and sore not from the life giving sunshine but from the dust and grit of the Eidelons’ semi destroyed city, the sharp pain in his abdomen and numb legs not the result of Chiana’s sleeping body across his own but of a gaping ugly wound, the moisture on his hand not the sweat on his woman’s back but black as tar blood he has been trying to stem.

He pulls himself up as much as his body will allow it and readies himself for a last stand…he can buy the others a few precious microts, a chance to get away, to realise their dreams…he can at least try to give them that

 

THE END


End file.
